Filler! And you know you love it! And didn't I promise you a quick update? =]
I couldn’t go home right away. Not after the flight and the way they were acting. It was like she totally forgot everything we had said to each other. I thought we had shared something. I thought it was real and magical. But Brendon. Always Brendon. He got her. Yes, he did.
I was just sitting in a little café downtown, out of the way of the casinos and crazy lights. I was sitting on a table outside, pen perched in my hand, ready to write the words down as they flowed from my heart. After a few moments of staring at my blank notebook, I came to realize something. That the words weren’t going to come. The only thing that littered my pages were tears. Tears flowed from the very crevices of my tear ducts, down my cheeks and onto the lines of the paper, smearing the blues into the white.
“You’re a sap,” I scolded myself. “Damn you all to hell George Ryan Ross. Damn you all to hell.”
The worst thing about sleeping on a couch is one, it’s terribly uncomfortable and two, it’s not your bed. Now, I couldn’t have been anymore thrilled that that wonderful woman was upstairs, sleeping in my bed. My bed! I imagined the soft features on her gentle face as she lay against my pillow. I imagined the curve the sheet took on her slim hips. She was so graceful, like a ballerina. Except she didn’t dance. She told me that on the plane. She told me she was probably one of the worst dancers alive.
We sat together the whole trip, just talking, enjoying each other’s company. She told me so much about herself. Like she eats her Recees’ peanut buttercups by going around the rim and then eating the middle. When she was little she wanted to be Wonder Woman and save the world. She said that her favorite color was pink and orange, especially when they streaked the morning sky in the winter and when it covered the snow and ice, making it an abstract seen.
“But my most favorite time in the whole world is in the middle of the day.”
“Why is that?” I asked.
“Because. On summer days the sky turns the most magnificent shade of blue you would ever cast your eyes upon. And when there are no clouds in the sky, you can see for miles. It’s gorgeous.”
“I bet it is,” I whispered, taking her hand.
“Whenever the sky is blue, I try to paint it. But you know, no matter how many color combinations I try, I have never found the right shade.”
“You like to paint?”
“Yeah. Photography and painting. But my paintings would never sell.”
“I don’t believe that!”
“Why didn’t they sell?”
“Because I could never let them go.”
I rolled over on the couch and laid my eyes upon the far wall. Had it always been tan? I don’t remember it being tan…
I heard the front door open suddenly and a familiar voice.
“Ryan?” I asked, sitting up.
“Yeah!” he called from the front hall. He made his way down and I saw his smiling face. Even though he appeared happy, he still seemed troubled or uncomfortable.
“You okay buddy?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said.
“Where have you been? I haven’t seen you since we got off the plane.”
“Yeah, I just had to go somewhere to think.”
“Did you get your thoughts in?” I asked, referring to poetry. Ryan always wrote poetry or a song when he was upset or going through something.
“Nah… I couldn’t concentrate….” Because of her… He didn’t have to say it. I knew Alena was pulling him away from his thoughts. “At first I had something, but I lost it somewhere.”
“Like Spencer does with his keys?” I joked.
“Yeah, except Jon’s not the one hiding them,” he teased back. I laughed and so did he in turn.
“You crashin’ out here?” he asked, pointing to the couch.
I shrugged my shoulders and nodded my head. “Yeah, something about back pain is just so appealing.”
“She kick you out of your room?”
“You gave up your room?”
I only nodded my head. He smiled. “You always were a softie.”
“Don’t remind me.”
And with that he said good night and made his way up the stairs, into his own room.
I lay back down and wrapped the blanket around me, to try to wrestle with sleep some more.
He had tucked me in. Brendon Boy Urie had tucked me in.
“Good night, babe,” he whispered right before he kissed my cheek. “Sweet dreams, goodnight, don’t let the beddie bugs bite.” He said that old rhyme to me. My daddy always used to say it, right before he would leave for his night shift at work.
“You neither, Brenny,” I whispered back. He gave me a small, beautiful smile before leaving his room and softly closing the door behind him.
But the best part about sleeping in his bed is having his scent linger on everything. It was a combination of Old Spice and after shave. I pulled the pillow toward me, trying draw it in. But he hadn’t been here in so long; the scent was stale, but still so wonderful.
I pulled the blankets closer around my shoulders, trying to bring him closer.
Sleep was useless. Here it was, 2:24 in the morning, and I couldn’t sleep. All I kept imaging was her. I closed my eyes, just so I could see her again, but even that wasn’t enough. Even if I saw her, I couldn’t touch her, I could smell her, I couldn’t hear her…
“Can you not sleep either?”
My eyes shot open to see her hovering over me. She was wearing a blue night gown with cute pink flip-flop slippers.
“I can never sleep,” I said, sitting up, giving her room to sit.
She sat down and rested her head on the back of the couch.
“Sorry you can’t sleep babe,” I said. “I know it’s hard sleeping in somewhere so unfamiliar. You would think I would be used to it by now, with all the traveling I do. It’s bad. Even my home is unfamiliar to me.”
“That’s because you’re on the couch,” she said with a giggle. “If you were in your bed, you’d sleep just fine.”
“I doubt it.”
“Why is that?” she asked, looking my way. The pale street light from outside cast onto her skin, making her seem paler than usual, like she was just a silhouette, a shadow. It made her seem unreal.
“Because then I’d know that you were uncomfortable on this piece of crap couch. And it would be my fault for buying bad furniture.”
“I think your furniture is fine.”
“I think you’re fine.”
She smiled and brought her lips to mine. When she pulled away she gave a soft smile. “Then let’s be uncomfy together, shall we?” she asked, ripping the blanket away from me.
“That’s mine!” I playfully whined.
“Just like that black underwear was mine!”
“You’re never getting it back!”
“Then it looks like Mr. Urie shall freeze his little tail off, won’t he?”
“No, actually,” she said, giving a mischievous grin, wrapping the comforter around her shoulders tighter. “I’m warm.”
I just shook my head and wrapped my arms around her. Her head fell onto my bare chest. “Goodnight, Brendon Urie,” she whispered against my skin.
“Goodnight, Alena Miller,” I whispered into her soft brown hair.
Filler, I know. You’re prolly sick of it by now. And I apologize. I just got inspiration to write a little filler like this. Besides, you know it’s cute!
Autumn Lynn Mumford =]
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